Forget Me Not
by RandomKiwi
Summary: Kurt Hummel was his everything... And now his everything was gone.


**AN: Hey, guys. Sorry for the lack of updates lately. I've been very busy churning out some more fics. This one was written very quickly. The inspiration for this one comes from many different songs. I might post a playlist later on. I'll keep this note to a minimum, as you probably just want to read it. Warning: I did NOT proofread. I simply don't have the time to. I'm going through a tough time right now, so the majority of stories I will be uploading will have some form of angst in them. Without further ado, here is Forget Me Not. It will be more than just this chapter. I'm aiming for it to be a longer piece of mine. Thanks! Reviews are the greatest form of appreciation! I'd really love some feedback! I hope you enjoy. Please don't kill me.**** :)  
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**~ RandomKiwi  
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Sad eyes take in the world around them, riddled with guilt, regret, and sorrow. These eyes, once windows to the world, were blocked off from the inside long ago. Their owner had drawn the shades weeks back, denying any entrance to what they held. These hazel eyes, now gazing out at a sickeningly white room, convey no emotion. A vague sense of pain can still be detected, however, if one looks hard enough… But of course, no one had the care or the concern to. The raven haired boy lies on the hospital bed with nothing but the slow, steady beeping of the heart monitor and the _drip, drip, drip_ of the IV fluid to keep him company. He is just a mere seventeen years old, not a boy but not nearly a man either. His dark curls rest atop his head, slightly glistening in the bright lights shining down on him from the ceiling. Bruises litter his otherwise perfect face, accompanied by scrapes and bits of dried crimson. Both of his wrists are wrapped tightly with pale gauze, though a slight reddish hue is visible if one focuses on them for more than just a brief moment. Though nobody did, for there was not a soul in that room but the victim… But he was his own victim.

No one of his family members had bothered to show, for none of them could be burdened with the teen. In their eyes, he was a failure, someone to be shunned and scrutinized. That is why they'd disowned him three years back, after all. In fact, he, himself, could not be bothered any longer… which indicates the very reason why he was admitted to this hospital in such critical condition no more than an hour or two before. A twinge of pain runs through the boy as he shuts his eyes.

For just a moment, he is greeted by a boy's face. Chestnut hair frames a face that could very well be the absolute definition of perfection; the very definition of beauty. Bright blue eyes are surrounded by beautiful, flawless skin. It was pale, yet gorgeous… _Porcelain. _He is a porcelain doll, with soft features and luscious, dazzling lips. A smile tugs at the corners of these flawless lips, turning up the corners of his mouth a bit. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles slightly, indicating the happiness within him. This isn't just any smile… It is the smile that _was_ only for Blaine, the boy who lies on the bed at this moment, his eyes closed as tears streak down his olive cheeks.

The boy who he envisions was his first boyfriend, his first lover. And just like that, he was taken out from under Blaine's nose, whisked away to New York to pursue a career on Broadway. As Kurt Hummel left, so left Blaine's life, rock, and will to live. Kurt was his everything… And now, his everything was gone. Knowing that he couldn't have Kurt any more had torn Blaine to bits the first time… And it still did. He had begged, pleaded, for his former boyfriend to stay with him, at least in heart, but that had proven to be too hard for Mr. Hummel, who had broken off the relationship before he boarded his 12:00 flight to New York City on December 21, 2012. In those few seconds, the short time it took Kurt to remove himself from Blaine's touch, a whole universe crashed and burned. Blaine's world had fallen from the sky and crumbled, slipping through his fingers like sand. Now, there was nothing left to live for, no world to come back to.

Hearing news of Kurt's Broadway success on the nightly CNN News and from Kurt's Glee Club friends nearly killed Blaine each and every time. On the night of January 21, 2012, exactly one month after Kurt's permanent departure from Blaine's life, he finds himself locked in a hospital room and tied to an IV line like a leash, holding him in the confines of life.

The fact that Kurt Hummel was never coming back into his arms was slowly murdering Blaine. He simply wanted the knife to end him before this did, which was precisely his logic as he created the large gashes on his wrists earlier this night. A quick death was favorable when compared to a slow, excruciating one. If only his efforts had paid off, he thinks, as he leans back against the soft pillows behind him. An eternal life in Hell was surely less painful than a life spent loving a man who could _never_ love him back.

Blaine Anderson sighs and tries to relax, which is a big joke because of course he can't relax. The love of his life is off in New York and he's stuck in this dreadful state of being, knowing that Kurt will never, _never_, run back into his eager arms.

The pull of slumber is too strong to overcome for much longer. Just before he slips into sub consciousness, Kurt's angelic voice floods his mind. He can practically feel the older boy's breath tickling just behind his ear as the soft whisper resounds in his head.

"_I love you, Blaine."_

If only that wasn't such a bloody lie.


End file.
